Interspecies Relations
by ambiguously
Summary: After an interspecies incident, Kallus is brought in for questioning by his superiors in the Rebellion.


"Commander, we'd like to have a word with you."

Kallus looked up from his data pad, his brain taking a slow moment to readjust. The Fulcrum spy network operated under a cascade of aliases and codes which he read as a second language, and it was his task currently to sift through the harvested information and glean the important details, especially those tidbits that wouldn't seem relevant to a less trained operative. He pulled his head out of the deep swim of intelligence and counter-intelligence, remembered who he was here to these people, and put on a flat, professional demeanor. "Of course."

Draven led him to a small conference room where General Cracken waited with a man he recognized from Personnel. Dodonna wasn't there, nor was Mothma. Part of him would always peer into the corners, looking for snipers and assassins, waiting for his own execution. He had not always been an ally to these people, and he would not be the first ex-Imperial to find out the hard way that not all crimes could be forgiven.

There was no assassin. This time. Kallus took a comfortable stance against one wall, and he waited.

The man from Personnel, who may have been named Rostil, said, "We need your expertise on a delicate matter. There was an incident with Captain Orrelios."

Kallus had spent his career learning to hide his expressions. One got through anyway. Reading it too easily for Kallus's comfort, Draven said in a reassuring voice, "The incident happened three days ago." Kallus relaxed, and hated a little that he relaxed. The man he used to be wouldn't have cared. The man he was still becoming shouldn't let his face show that he did. He had seen Zeb an hour ago.

Three days. "I believe I am aware of the incident."

Cracken said, "There hasn't been a formal complaint issued. Corporal Farlanis has not gone to Medical for treatment for his injuries. However, it's clear to anyone who sees him that he has been hurt. Commander Viner heard a rumor claiming Captain Orrelios was his assailant."

"I haven't heard that rumor," Kallus said, his own expression now schooled into calm complacency.

Rostil said, "We need your insight on the matter. The Rebellion is a loose affiliation of many species, and cultures clash regularly. You have the most experience with Lasat society of anyone here."

Kallus noted the polite tone used. In return, he kept his own tone polite. He would not ask if they considered his 'expertise' due to his relationship with Zeb, or due to his participation in the genocide of Lasan. The latter was on his record. The former was not a matter he wanted other people to know about yet, although he was not terribly surprised to discover they hadn't been as discreet as he'd hoped.

"I see."

"Lasats were known for their warrior culture, but sadly, there are so few left that we don't know much more. Do you have any insight about Lasat culture or psychology that might be pertinent?"

They were asking if he thought Zeb was likely to go on a rampage. They were being polite to Kallus even knowing he was the reason so few Lasats survived. They obviously had not contacted Hera about the matter, despite her being Zeb's direct commanding officer. For all that the Rebellion wanted to embrace its reputation of goodwill and harmony among all species, they had much to learn about putting that goal into practice.

He leaned against the wall. "I know a bit about Lasat culture, yes. I studied the planet before the mission where we terminated the population." His eyes flickered to Cracken. "I need to say it out loud. I need to remember."

Cracken nodded. Kallus wondered what horrors he'd committed in his own past, and decided he didn't want to know.

"One detail I've always found interesting: Lasats have a matriarchal society. All their leaders are, _were_, women. Their mystics and holy people, their queens, with few exceptions. This led to a small misunderstanding when he originally joined General Syndulla's crew. Neither she nor Jarrus had ever met a Lasat before, and based on their first brief interaction, Jarrus mistakenly believed Zeb would only accept orders from a man. For years, he and the General chose to act as though Jarrus was in charge of their team until the misunderstanding eventually sorted itself out."

It had been a good act, Kallus remembered. He'd been fooled, too.

Draven said, "Interesting, but I don't feel that bears any relevance on why an individual Lasat would attack a colleague."

"No, and I hadn't intended it to. You see, the incident in question isn't about Lasat psychology. It's about human psychology, specifically the human male."

Draven narrowed his eyes in confusion. "How so?"

"Simple," Kallus said. Zeb had told him what had happened that same evening, though he hadn't understood why. He'd lived among humans for years yet often still found their motives opaque. "Captain Orrelios didn't attack Corporal Farlanis."

"How sure are you of that?"

"Quite sure. He was present at the incident, but he didn't lay a finger on him."

"The Corporal has a rather prominent black eye," said Rostil.

"Yes, and given the psychology involved, I'm sure he has told anyone who asked that Captain Orrelios gave it to him. It's far better for his ego that his friends believe he survived a full round of noble fisticuffs," Kallus mimed a boxing move, "with an enraged male Lasat warrior. That story leads to claps on the back and drinks all around." He smirked. "The alternative is to admit he was knocked onto his backside by one punch from a pregnant Twi'lek."

Now he watched their faces. "Syndulla attacked him?"

"I wouldn't use the term 'attacked.' According to Captain Orrelios, she engaged in some unorthodox disciplinary action. Corporal Farlanis is a human who does not come from a world with a matriarchal culture. He was...rude."

Rostil looked horrified. "Commander, we cannot solve personnel problems with violence, even if someone is rude. We'll have to bring the General in for an inquiry if she is harming her subordinates."

Kallus said, "I don't believe that's necessary. The Corporal acted out of bounds, but he will not be a problem in the future. His worst fear at the moment is the truth coming out." Which it would. Kallus had already planted the rumor in three carefully chosen places. "Had the General intended him actual harm rather than merely a swift lesson that his behavior would not be tolerated, she would have shot him. Note that I speak from experience on this."

He watched them take the information in, and adjust their opinion of the General. Rostil might not like it, but among men like Kallus's superiors, the truth of this matter would inspire a respect for her they previously lacked. "You're sure there won't be another incident?"

"I believe they both consider the matter closed."

"We'll add a reprimand to General Syndulla's file," said Rostil. "Please remind her to send disciplinary problems to Personnel in the future." He wasn't going to tell her himself. Kallus hid his amusement and nodded.

"Thank you for your assistance," said Cracken.

"I'll have that data to you later today, sir," Kallus said, and saw himself out of the room.

He returned to work, sorting the transmissions and compiling his daily list of information to pass up the chain of command. He noted heightened activity near Sullust. Imperial supply runs had increased threefold near the Moddell sector. Another Moff had died by assassination, likely from an ambitious underling, and Tarkin had taken temporary command of her sector. As always, Kallus felt a thin shiver when reading the name of someone he'd once considered an ally who would kill him on sight now. His own personal enemies list grew every cycle.

At the end of his shift, his feet made their familiar way outside the old temple to the _Ghost_. Warm smells of something good filled the air as he went back towards the galley. Hera was scheduled for a late meeting tonight and it was Zeb's turn to cook. Kallus was getting used to seeing him with pots clutched in both hands while he stirred with one foot but the sight was always diverting.

Instead of announcing his presence and startling Zeb, he lingered against the door. Outside, he spent each day half-expecting a blaster bolt to his head or his heart from someone collecting revenge for some crime in Kallus's past. Inside the bulkheads of this ship, he spent his free hours among people who had the most reason to want vengeance, who'd lost the most from the intelligence he'd gathered against them which had been used to cruel purpose long after he'd regretted his role. But he felt no fear here. They'd forgiven him, welcoming him into their family. It humbled him, and Kallus knew he would protect them as his own. Tonight he'd sleep next to someone he'd attempted to kill numerous times, and he'd rest far better than he had in a dozen sterile Imperial bunks.

Zeb completed his balancing act, setting down the pots. He wouldn't be dangerously distracted now as Kallus stepped into the room. They'd take their meal together, and talk about the day, and keep Hera's portion warm for her for later. It was a good life, better than he deserved, and all the more precious to him for that.

"I'm home," he said, and he smiled.


End file.
